Having enjoyed a really fantastic meal the other week, I suggested a friend and I should catch up there for dinner. But when I tried to book last week for this Friday night, the only time available was 10.00pm. Seriously. Being a little too late, decided to turn up at 6.00pm and see if we could use our charm to find a seat on spec. We ended up with a seat near the door, which was absolutely fine as it allowed us to check out the incoming guests. We felt like bouncers! Our conclusion – lots of of twenty/thirty something couples. Once again, the food was excellent, though we were a little disappointed with one dish. It was the potato gratin dish. It was ok. We loved the pork. We loved the grains tabbouleh. We were treated to a complimentary desert. Once again, Nomad delivered.
This weekend I travelled “down the coast” to Bawley Point, for the first time in fourteen years. The last time I was there was when Damien and I had our first “weekend away”, staying overnight at the now-closed Bawley Point Guest House. Back then, Bawley Point was a rather sleepy place and the guest house was about all the accommodation that was on offer.
These days, there are many more accommodation options on offer, and a friend who turned forty recently, decided to book out a number of cottages on a bush retreat on the shores of Willinga Lake. Four of us shared a small cottage which was, literally, metres from the lake. That meant fantastic views, peaceful surrounds, wallabies which came close to the house at daytime, and closer at night, and geese and swans to provide a bit of visual entertainment. A little bit of bush-strolling was had.
The weekend was fantastic, travelling down with some good mates, and getting to meet some fabulous new people. And fascinating to get an insight into our friend’s life that we were unaware of, particularly her early years, growing up in Sweden and spending some time in Perth. A good vibe, all round.
And each way, of course, we stopped in to the Berry do-nut van. OMG, how good are the freshly made do-nuts? You have to wait, but the wait is definitely worth it.
Although the South Coast has definitely increased in population and “development” over the last decade, it still has a bit of a “sleepy” quality, and thus remains a fantastic place to go for a weekend away.
Now back in Sydney, I’m preparing for a busy, busy week, and then a slight change of job for the next five weeks. Before I know it, it will be Christmas (flights home already booked), and before I know it, it’ll be New Year. I’m thinking/planning for another O.S. trip in 2013.
I’m the first to admit there was a slight sense of trepidation in our steps as we walked up the stairs of the venue of Cleveland Street offering Dance Classes.
Minutes earlier a colleague had told me she had gone to dance classes twenty years earlier, and often overcome with nervousness, never made it into the class all that often, choosing instead to remain outside in her car.
A colleague suggested we go along to an after-work dance class several weeks ago, with the twin goals of fitness and fun in mind.
As we argued for several weeks over which class suited us best, the final consensus ended up with Monday and a decision to undertake the Hip Hop Class.
Although four of us had agreed to attend, only three turned up.
But what great fun we had.
As we walked into the already warmed-up class, we found ourselves a space towards the back of the class and began to follow our instructor, a young bloke called Masaki, who was probably about twenty five years old.
Being a little bit older (ok, a lot older), the three of us found it a little difficult to keep our feet firmly on the floor, as appears to be the custom for hip-hop dancing.
“I found the twirl the hardest bit”, said one of my colleagues.
As the hour progressed the dance routine became increasingly complex. But somehow – goodness knows how – we managed to end up being able to perform a basic hip-hop routine.
I’m sure the instructor must have had to stifle a grin or two as he looked at the three old people in the back row who were slightly behind everyone else.
That said, there was a young bloke not far from me who was completely un-co.
But the great thing about this class was that it wasn’t about judging who was good and who wasn’t. It was just loads of fun, the music was surprisingly good, and there was a genuine joie de vivre in the class. $16 for an hour was great value, we all thought.
The music was also really good, though I was a little disappointed they failed to play my current favourite “We Made You” by Eminem. Yes, seriously… it’s a GREAT song.
As we walked out of the class, gulping down water, we looked at the dance schedule for the next few weeks.
“The Bollywood Class looks like fun”, we all agreed.
But then, as we walked towards the stairs, we noticed to our right the Hip Hop/Funk Beginner class which had just started. They were dancing to a Michael Jackson song.
“I like songs with words”, a colleague commented. And we also noted the class was maybe a little older, and moving a little more in the dance style to which we all were accustomed.
“OK, let’s do that”, we all agreed. And even though one of us has a young child at home, we agreed we could work our schedules for a 6.30 class next week.
“I swear it’s Thousand Island Dressing”, Sam said to me when he came out of the Sushi Shop in Newtown. On close inspection, the accompanying sauce bore a remarkable resemblance to the sauce I’ve stacked on the shelves of numerous Coles Supermarket shelves, but have never actually tasted. I chose not to have the sushi, instead preferring the chicken which was very tasty.
Thousand Island Dressing Sushi
We were half way between parties, both of which were held by colleagues, and both of which were in the Newtown/Erskineville/Enmore areas. Sam and I met at The Rose Of Australia, a great little pub in a great little suburb. We both agreed it was a very “liveable place”, with Sam declaring it was “like Balmain and Newtown had a baby and they called it Erskineville”. The first party, a Christmas drinks function, included lots of people from the North Coast. The second was more of a “work function”, with about half those attending being people I knew from work. It was a housewarming party for a colleague who bought a near derelict house twelve months ago, and who has been renovating like crazy ever since. We both had a great day.
We left the housewarming at about ten and made our way back through Newtown. Amongst the sights we noted was the “Hello Kitty Chair” in the nail salon on Enmore Road. We both agreed we’d love to have our nails done in that chair :)
Back in The Surry, there’s a party going on at the house across the road. They’re loud, but even though they’re chatty, and I’ve got the window open, I don’t mind so much. They sound like a nice group of people. And there’s no doof-doof, just a gentle chatter. Tis the season, I guess.
Favourite new quote of the day? “Oh my God, I looked like Madonna going out to buy milk”.
I got online at just the right time. I re-set my previous registration. I followed the prompts at just the right time. I tried in both English and Swedish. And I still missed out on tickets for the finals for Melodifestivalen, the Swedish competition leading to Eurovision.
I’m going to be in Stockholm next March, with Melodifestivalen something I really want to attend. And so when I read tickets went on sale tonight at 6.00pm Sydney time, I was ready to go.
Tickets however seem to sell out almost instantly. I’d imagine tickets might become available later. Perhaps a Swedish fan could advise if that’s the case? Or I might need to go looking on the ticket black market? Anyway, I’m sure it will be fine. By hook or by crook I’ll be there.
As I mentioned yesterday, I’ve been umming and ahhing and faffing around for a couple of weeks now, but I’ve finally done it. I’ve booked a flight to Stockholm, arriving March 4 to spend four weeks there.
Unlike the last time, during the summer of last year, it will be a little colder. I’m even hoping there might be some snow, even though I’m generally a “warm climate” kinda guy myself.
Beyond a general idea of “living in Stockholm for a while”, and going to a work-related conference in Copenhagen on March 18 and 19, I’ve yet to work out what I’ll do.
Even though tickets for Melodifestivalen are sold out, I see Sarah Dawn Finer is playing Chinese Theatre during the month, and Bjorn Skiffs is at Circus.
For me the trip is on many levels. I’d like to see, for example, if I could “live” in a colder place than I am used to, where the days are shorter etc. If I can, I’m hoping to live or work in Stockholm for maybe a year. Who knows?
Anyway, I’m gonna be in Sweden/Denmark in March, and maybe elsewhere for a day or two.
Very bloody excited!
Aside from that, it’s been a reasonably eventless day. Well, aside from most of the people I encountered today being in a very silly mood. I blame the weather. It was far too nice a day to remain indoors. Or maybe it’s the phase of the moon?
I was chatting with mate at work who noted the moon had changed, and that probably helps to explain it. Or maybe it’s that time of the year? He updated his Facebook status with “I’m a farm boy trapped in a city – all I want is a vegie patch and chooks”.
“I know how you feel”, I told him. “I’m a Swedish boy trapped in Sydney – all I want is fashionable furniture and clothing, a democratic society and tickets to Melodifestivalen”.
There’s an app on my phone which tells me how many steps I walk each day. Sure, there’s a margin of error, as it relies on me actually having my phone on me every day. But the margin of error is low, as I actually do have my phone with me most days.
The app tells me that I generally walk about the “required” 10,000 steps most days, but that it sometimes falls below that, and often increases well above that. During my travels in July and August, the number of daily steps has increased dramatically. But since arriving back, I’ve turned into a bit of a lard arse.
That’s been particularly the case this weekend. I’ve been a sloth. The combination of post-holiday blues, daylight saving, and a long weekend, has meant I’ve spent large parts of the weekend doing nothing much at all. I’ve slept, I’ve watched TV, I’ve rested, and I’ve gone out for lunch/dinner.
And today I’ve gone walking with my friend Sue. We visited Art & About’s Australian Life, we walked through the Botanic Gardens, and around Barangaroo. I felt awfully proud that I’d made about 13,000 steps throughout the day. And then of course I ruined it all by having a beer on the way home. Nonetheless, I’m feeling virtuous that I didn’t spend the entire long weekend as a sloth.
Steps for the last few months
Lamb roast at the Bat and Ball Hotel, Sydney
Australian Life – my favourite, a photograph from Wilcannia
Australian Life – my second favourite, look closely to see people in the foam
We had a cracker of a storm this afternoon. There wasn’t any lightning, and there wasn’t any hail. There wasn’t even much rain. But it was still a pretty good storm nonetheless. Most of which I enjoyed from the 200 Bus from Bondi Junction. The 200, by the way, is not my normal bus. I caught it “randomly”.
When I’m travelling (ah yes, memories), I like to catch random buses to see where they’ll take me. My favourite memory of this was when I caught a bus in Beijing ten years ago, while visiting my friend Kate.
The upshot of it all is that I took the “wrong bus” and ended up in the middle of nowhere, about eighty or ninety kilometres outside Beijing.
As I arrived at the town of Songzhou – the home of a village of 2,000 practising artists – I wondered to myself, “what if I go one stop further?”. And so I did. And then I did again. And then I kept on going. Until eventually I found myself out in the countryside. It was an absolute pleasure to be able to take in some of those familiar non-urban smells that I’ve spent more than half my life with (though obviously not recently).
As I travelled on the bus through small villages there were particular images which remain with me: the massive amounts of corn on the roadside drying, the backyard recycling depots full of plastic bottles, and the seemingly “third world” living conditions of some of the housing. I travelled for as long as I felt comfortable until eventually I got up and off at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. I felt reasonably comfortable there would eventually be a return bus, since there was a handful of people waiting on the roadside.
I must have been a rather odd site to have appeared from nowhere. Amongst those standing was an older bloke – maybe in his 50s – who was obviously a bit of a joker. He was walking around chatting to everyone and then came over to me for a bit of a chat. Through sign language he asked me why I had my pull-over wrapped in a knot around my kneck, suggested I put it on properly, and then we all laughed. We chatted for a while – he in Chinese, I in English – and made “the best of friends”. We sat next to each other on the bus. I was really pleased I’d gone that “one stop further”
Catching the bus outside Beijing
The 200 Route from Bondi Junction to Chatswood was nowhere near as exotic, though I did go through parts of the Eastern Suburbs I never normally visit.
One of the depressing things about getting caught in the rain was how it combined with my facemask. Normally, my glasses fog up due to the facemask, but then there was the rain and humidity on top of it.
I’ve been regularly wearing facemasks since the COVID-19 outbreak, and even though I’ve read various bits of advice along the way about how to prevent it, my glasses still fog up.
As I wandered around today, I fiddled constantly with my mask to prevent the fog. Eventually, I decided it was easy enough to take my glasses off. But then I had the issue to deal with of what to do with them.
I might look like a grandpa, now, but at least I’ve found the solution.
